


The Stories We Make

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Humor, M/M, Multi, Scheming, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Fingolfin asked Fëanor to critique his tongue after their reembodiments. Fëanor thought he meant his pronunciation, while Finarfin planned a different critique.
Relationships: Background Elmo/Elu Thingol/Olwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Finarfin | Arafinwë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Kudos: 34





	The Stories We Make

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 100 words of seductive reading thread on FFA.

"Please, Fëanáro, you are the most accomplished at linguistics." Fingolfin kept an earnest expression on his face as he held the book so Fëanor could see the cover. "I merely need someone to listen and correct me if I slip - Telerin is at once so similar and so different that I find myself making the oddest mistakes."

"Arafinwë is here too. Surely with his Telerin wife and house in Alquolande, along with his time as King, he could as easily correct your pronunciation," Fëanor said, glancing over from his papers. He knew he would end up giving in, if only because it was clear that neither of his half-brothers had any plans of leaving until after he did as they wished. They had become more willing to do that, and he to let them do so, in the wake of his reembodiment.

"He fears I would be too nice." Finarfin lounged stretched across the couch, taking up space as he wished. "And he knows you will not."

Fëanor snorted at the idea. "I suppose it will please Atar to see his sons getting along after everything. Very well, Nolo, read your book aloud. We shall see if your skills have improved over the centuries."

"Thank you." Fingolfin took the book and stretched it across his lap, flipping forward until he reached the bookmarked chapter. "An Account of the Reunions Of The Final Elves In Valinor-"

"Final? Is there some restriction I have not been informed of on new elves?" Fëanor cut in, looking up as the book already tried his patience.

"Peace, brother," Finarfin said, taking a sip from a glass of wine. "It is an incorrect but popular term used to refer to the various Sindar and Silvan who have arrived of late, as you well know."

"I had thought such imprecise terms would have ended at some point after my death, as the Loremasters learned from their past mistakes," Fëanor grumbled.

Finarfin laughed. "If anything, they grew worse without you here to pester the publishers."

"Who is the publisher? Nolo, let me see-" Fëanor stood, crossing the room. To his half-brothers, it appeared as though he was ready to depart immediately to go intimidate the publisher into making corrections. 

"Let me finish the chapter, and if you still wish to see the publisher, I will let you go. But for now you are to critique my tongue, not the publisher's press." Fingolfin sat firm in the chair and held the book away from Fëanor's reach. "Sit next to Ara, he can ply with you with wine so you can cope with hearing me read."

Fëanor's face clouded, briefly, before Finarfin sat up, clearing a space for his brother. Pouring a new glass of wine, he handed it to Fëanor.

Fëanor took a sip, considering the taste as he tried to calm his displeasure. "A fine vintage. A gift from one of your Sindar in-laws, I presume."

"Elmo gifted it to me when I explained what I wished for." Finarfin's smile was bright and open, as it always seemed to be. "He has been most gracious."

"Elu and Olwë's younger brother? I suspect you have had much to speak of." Fëanor took another sip, this time considering Finarfin's new friendship. 

"We have," Finarfin said. "He has much knowledge to speak of, a large portion of which I should like to put into practice."

"A large portion of which we might learn if you would only let me read," Fingolfin interrupted.

Finarfin laughed at that, gesturing with his free hand. "Read, brother."

"It has come to pass that those sundered by the trip to Valinor have finally come to be reunited. For who has loved his siblings as deeply as Elu, or accepted his siblings' love as well as Olwë? And while time and distance - and death - tore at the bonds between all three, it did not manage to break them." Fingolfin paused to turn the page.

"Your pronunciation of bonds is incorrect, I believe," Fëanor cut in.

Finarfin smiled again, refilling their glasses. "It is, but we can have more talk of bonds and how to use such correctly later. Nolo's reading is pleasing, is it not?"

Fëanor nodded. "It has improved greatly since the last time I heard him attempt to speak such."

"High praise from you." Fingolfin smiled, smaller than Finarfin's but no less genuine. "Shall I continue?"

Fëanor inclined his head.

"This is not to say that such reunions were easy. Certainly, the reunion of all three was set in grief. Grief for death and injuries sustained while alone, the pain of walking separate paths into doom and loneliness. But eventually Olwë bared all before his brothers, and was forgiven and forgave, while Elmo was brought fully into his brothers' embrace."

Fëanor raised an eyebrow at the phrasing. "Are you sure you are reading the correct phrases, Nolo? Those seem more suited to describe lovers than brothers."

Fingolfin was silent.

Finarfin leaned closer to Fëanor. "He is reading the correct phrases."

"You have read this book before?" Fëanor asked, raising a brow at Finarfin. "Why did you not warn me of the chapter title, at the least?"

"I not only read it, I edited it." Finarfin moved closer, red lips hovering before Fëanor's own. "I did not warn you of the title because I hoped it would distract you long enough for this."

"This?" Fëanor asked, suspicion growing in his mind. It was not something he had thought of before, and yet-

Fingolfin came to sit on the couch behind Fëanor, abandoning the book on the desk. "Explain to him, Ara."

"The book is an edited collection of letters Elmo sent me about his relationship with his brothers." Finarfin looked down at the couch. "I was lonely and had told him much of my own dreams. I think he thought it would give me hope."

Snippets of conversation flashed through Fëanor's mind. "Elmo's relationship with his brothers is not merely that of brothers, is it?"

"No," Fingolfin answered that time, as Finarfin took a small breath. "I was as surprised as you are to hear of such, but I have grown to understand it."

Fëanor took a breath to match his half-brother's. "And you two wish to be more as well?"

Fingolfin nodded. "Yes. Ara came to me a few weeks past, and then we discussed how to tell you."

"And reading a fake book was your scheme, Arafinwë?" Fëanor looked at his youngest brother, who glanced up from the couch.

Finarfin met his brother's eyes. "It was, yes. Does it displease you?"

Fëanor heard Fingolfin's quick breath behind him. Ignoring it other than brief amusement at their similar reactions, he grasped Finarfin's chin in one hand, tilting it up. "How could I be displeased by such a clever scheme? Perhaps a life ago I would have been, but I like to think I know better now."

"You accept that we are full brothers in heart?" Fingolfin asked.

"More than that, unless you have both changed your minds." Fëanor twisted to look at Fingolfin.

"Never." Fingolfin smiled. "Perhaps we should reward our younger brother for his persistence."

Finarfin smiled faintly in response. "A reward is not needed."

"Of course it is," Fëanor said, turning back. "You said you were lonely, Ara, and that is not something either of us can forget. Nor will I forget to reward pleasing feats of intelligence, which your scheme is."

Fingolfin nodded at the words, for once in complete agreement with Fëanor. "You deserve to be the focus for once."

Finarfin looked at them both. "It is reward enough to have this."

Fëanor shook his head. "Lift him, Nolo, and carry him to bed. I believe you said I should critique your tongue, and Ara said we would discuss bonds. We shall do such now."

Finarfin gasped as he was picked up and pressed between his brothers' chests as they kissed briefly.

Fëanor's smile glinted with mischief as he pulled back. "Your tongue is pleasing, but I will reserve final judgment until you use it on Ara. Come, let us go."

Fingolfin laughed, cradling a moaning and laughingly protesting Finarfin to his chest as they went.


End file.
